


The Defector

by LibraryMage



Series: Altered Fate [7]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Gen, Inquisitor Ezra Bridger, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-04-05 21:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: After six years with the Inquisitors, the Twelfth Brother has given up on trying to find a way out.  But an encounter with a Jedi might just change that.





	1. The Twelfth Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: references to child abuse; suicidal intrusive thoughts; character death

He could still smell the burning flesh.

He had long since become used to the smells and sounds and the sheer terror that radiated through the Force when someone was cut down with a lightsaber, but he’d never been able to block them out enough to not notice them.  Even now, hours later, the scent burned at the back of his nose and throat.  He could still see the fear in the man’s eyes in the moment where he knew for certain that he was about to die.

Even though the ship was on autopilot, the Twelfth Brother was gripping the controls so tightly that his knuckles were nearly white.  His eyes were unfocused as he stared through the viewport in front of him, looking toward the bright streaks of hyperspace, but not really seeing them.  A small, insistent voice in the back of his mind told him to snap out of it, that he couldn’t drop his guard like this, but for the moment, he let himself ignore it.  He could never show weakness like this in front of the others, but for now, he simply let it happen.  Letting himself feel it helped him to remember.

The Twelfth Brother released his grip on the ship’s controls abruptly, as if he’d been burned.  He sat back in his seat, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging his arms around them, an old habit that he didn’t dare let himself fall back into unless he was truly alone.  After six years, the others still saw him as a helpless child they could easily torment -- _they’re right_ , a quiet voice in the back of his head reminded him -- and he didn’t want to give them anything else to reinforce that idea.

The Twelfth Brother -- _no, no, **no** , that wasn’t his name, he didn’t have to think that here_ \-- ran a hand through his short dark hair, sighing in frustration as he rested his forehead down on his knees.  He drew in a long, deep breath, pushing away the shreds of his most recent mission that still clung to his mind like vines.  He closed his eyes and mentally curled in on himself, sinking as far down into his own mind as he could.

He pictured it like a wall in his mind, with loose bricks.  Behind one of those bricks, he’d hidden the things he wanted to keep safe from the others.  _My name is Ezra Bridger.  My mother is Mira Bridger.  My father is Ephraim Bridger.  They fought for justice, for freedom, for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves.  The Empire took me from them._   Nothing else.  There was nothing else that mattered.  It wasn’t safe to think about these things often, but when he was alone, dispatched far away from the other Inquisitors, he could take that information out and hold onto it as tightly as he could until he inevitably had to hide it away again.

He hugged his arms even tighter around himself as he remembered the first night he’d spent in the cell after the Inquisitors had taken him from his parents.  He’d spent that whole night and most of the day after it huddled against the wall, refusing to go near the bed and the restraints that lined it, crying until his eyes hurt and he could barely breathe.

_Ezra cowered against the wall as the door opened, revealing the Mirialan who’d brought him there.  When she tried to drag Ezra to his feet, he lunged forward and sank his teeth into her wrist.  She let out a growl of disgust and anger as she slammed him against the wall, knocking his head back against the durasteel._

A loud, harsh _beep_ cut through Ezra’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present before he was drawn too deep into the memory.  Ezra glanced down at the ship’s controls.  The sound had been an alert, telling him the ship was about to drop out of hyperspace.

Ezra slid his feet back to the floor and straightened his back.  This happened far too often.  He would get a brief chance to think about his parents or his old life, and all he could think about was the Inquisitors.  He let out a small sigh and carefully hid those pieces of himself inside the wall in his mind.

He switched the ship back to manual control and began his descent toward Mustafar’s surface.  As he reentered the atmosphere, he stared out at the viewport down at the lava below him.  Once again, his hands tightened around the ship’s controls.  Plunging the TIE fighter into the lava would be so easy…

It wasn’t the first time he’d had that thought, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.  But he’d never tried.  He’d never even seriously considered it.  The thought would enter his head and be gone before he had the willpower to do anything more.

He set the TIE down on a landing platform outside a sprawling duracrete and metal building.  For a moment, he closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath to clear his head and make sure all thoughts of his old life were still carefully hidden.  Finally, once he’d decided he couldn’t delay this any longer, he stood up and climbed through the hatch at the top of the ship.

The air stung his eyes and burned in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to care.  After so many years on Mustafar, he’d become used to it.  He resisted the urge to let his shoulders slump and hug his arms around himself as he walked toward the building’s entrance.  In spite of the planet’s heat, a harsh, biting cold surrounded Ezra.  It was a feeling he’d long since become familiar with; the cold of the dark side.

Ezra entered the facility and made his way through the dimly-lit corridors, keeping his hands at his sides and resisting the urge to trail a hand along the wall as he walked.  He was alone now, but he still didn’t dare to do it.  When he reached the briefing room, it was empty.  He took his place in the corner and stood at attention, waiting.

He tried to keep his mind blank as the minutes dragged on, time passing slower and slower the longer he waited, but against his will his thoughts began to wander, thankfully never straying past the boundaries of what it was safe to think about.

The mission.  Ezra couldn’t rid himself of the sight of the panic in the man’s eyes, the tears that clung to his lashes as he’d accepted that there was no way out.  Ezra felt a bitter, slimy feeling rising in the back of his throat and quickly reigned his mind back in, refusing to let himself feel sympathy or regret.  It just wasn’t safe.  Not here, not where any one of the other Inquisitors could be close enough to know.

The door opened and Ezra’s back abruptly straightened.  He didn’t even realize he’d fallen out of his rigid posture.  Thankfully, the Grand Inquisitor either hadn't noticed or didn’t care.  As the other Inquisitor entered the room, Ezra -- _no, Twelfth Brother, that’s who you are, you have no name_ \-- felt every muscle in his body tense and a cold sensation spread through his chest.  Logically, he knew he’d done nothing wrong, but fear still gripped him as the Grand Inquisitor’s eyes locked onto him with that gaze that felt like he was looking right into the Twelfth Brother’s mind.

“Report,” the Grand Inquisitor said.

The Twelfth Brother swallowed nervously as he tried to find his voice.  No matter how confident he was alone in the field, he seemed to shrink out of existence the moment he returned to this place and was forced to face one of the other Inquisitors.

“The mission was a success, Master,” the Twelfth Brother said, his voice flat and emotionless.  He might have progressed far enough and passed enough of their tests to earn his own rank, but to him the others would always be “Master.”  It was a not-so-subtle reminder of his true place in the hierarchy.  “I eliminated the target and the witnesses --”

He cut himself off, biting back the next word he was about to say.  His master didn’t need to hear anything more than what he’d already said.  But he knew from the look the Grand Inquisitor gave him that he’d already heard the unspoken _but_ that had almost followed.

The Twelfth Brother quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to calm his frantic, panicked thoughts.  He held onto a small sliver of hope that his master would just let this slide, but he knew that if he didn’t, panicking was only going to make things worse.

An unseen grip in the Force took hold of the Twelfth Brother, forcing his chin up until he was looking the Grand Inquisitor in the eye.

“Something else to say, boy?” the Pau’an asked.  The Twelfth Brother tried not to shudder at how much the question sounded like a threat.

“I -- I don’t think he was a survivor,” the younger Inquisitor said.  A sharp spike of fear cut through his chest as the Grand Inquisitor released him.  He shouldn’t have said anything.  He knew better.

“But he _was_ Force sensitive?”  It wasn’t really a question.  Of course he was.  The Twelfth Brother wouldn’t have been sent after him if he wasn’t.

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter,” the Grand Inquisitor said, his voice harsh and cold, as if he was scolding the younger man.  “Force sensitives either serve the Empire or they are eliminated.”

His eyes moved quickly over the Twelfth Brother, as if he were searching for something.

“Surely I don’t need to teach you that lesson again.”

“No, Master,” the Twelfth Brother said quickly.

“Good,” the Grand Inquisitor said.  “I’d hate to think you’d forgotten that.”

Fear coiled tightly in the Twelfth Brother’s chest.  Once again, he tried to remind himself that he hadn't done anything wrong, but he knew that didn’t always matter.

“Return to your quarters,” the Grand Inquisitor said, abruptly dismissing him.

“Yes, Master.”

The Twelfth Brother left the room as quickly as he could without betraying the fear that pulsed under his heart.  As he made his way through the corridors, he kept his back straight and his head up in an attempt to mask his fear.

Once he reached his quarters, he sat down on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his hair as he let his shoulders slump.  He couldn’t completely let himself go in here, but at least he could drop that rigid, overly-respectful posture when he was alone.

The room was little more than a cell, though at least there was no camera watching his every move like there had been on Arkanis.  The door could even be locked from the inside and he could come and go as he pleased unless one of his masters locked him in.  He was more than willing to take those small scraps of freedom and privacy.  It was better than none at all.

* * *

 

That night he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling and periodically glancing toward the door.  He couldn’t sense the presence of any of the other Inquisitors nearby, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was going to be left alone tonight.  He’d made sure the door was locked, hoping that at least the sound of it unlocking would alert him if someone entered his cell while he slept.  It happened less often here, but there had been more than enough nights on Arkanis where he’d been dragged from his bed while he slept, a training ‘saber being shoved into his hand as his only warning before an attack came.

The minutes dragged by, each one passing slower than the last, as the Twelfth Brother waited to see if sleep would come.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a peaceful night’s sleep.  He only knew that it hadn't happened since before he and his parents had been arrested.

He bit down on his lower lip to pull himself out of those thoughts.  He couldn’t think about his parents here, or his life before they were imprisoned.  It wasn’t safe.  But those thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone.  No matter how deeply he shoved them down, they immediately rose back up to the surface as something _pressed_ against the back of his mind.

 _No_ , he told himself.  _It’s not safe.  It’s not…_

The Twelfth Brother gasped and lunged to his feet, pain bursting through his chest, spreading out farther and growing stronger by the second.  Ezra -- _no, **no** , you have no name, **no**_ \-- collapsed to the floor, throwing his hands out to break his fall and stop his head from slamming against the duracrete.  Something was pounding through his chest and his head, the pain growing so strong his vision blurred until he couldn’t see.

“Mom,” he gasped, the word he hadn't spoken in years feeling like it was being pulled from his throat.  “Dad.”

A surge of pain, stronger than anything he’d ever felt before, shot through him.  Ezra reached out blindly, grabbing the thin blanket that lay on the bunk and shoving a corner of it between his teeth to muffle the scream that tore itself from his lungs.

As abruptly as it had started, the pain disappeared.  Slowly, Ezra pulled the edge of the blanket from his mouth, still clutching at it in case the pain started again.  He didn’t want any of the others to hear him screaming.  He looked around the cell, blinking away the tears that stung at his eyes.  He didn’t want to believe what he’d just felt.  He wanted to let himself think it was just a cruel trick by one of his masters.  But he knew it was real.

After surviving in that hellish prison for nearly nine years, his parents were dead.

Ezra -- he hurt too much to care that it wasn’t safe to even think of himself that way -- hugged his arms around himself, biting down on his lower lip in an attempt to muffle the sound of his crying.  The hope that he might see them again one day, once he did well enough or passed enough tests or did _something_ that gained him some shred of power in this place, had been what kept him alive in the first year since he’d been taken from them.  That hope had quickly given way to rage and hatred for the Inquisitors, but it had still been there, waiting for him when it was safe for him to let himself feel it.

And now it was gone.  Now _they_ were gone.

Now, there was no reason for him to keep holding on.


	2. Assignments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: child abuse; general creepiness toward a child; threat of death to a child

The Twelfth Brother hadn't moved in hours.  He was still kneeling on the floor, staring blankly into the space in front of him, his mind reeling as he tried to grasp what had happened.  His mind swung wildly back and forth between denial -- _it was a dream; I’m imagining things; it was an illusion, one of_ them _did this to hurt me_ \-- and utter despair.

He jumped when he heard the door open and quickly looked up to see the Seventh Sister entering the cell.  He immediately tried to move to stand up, forcing himself not to wipe at his eyes and draw attention to the fact that he’d been crying.

“Stay,” Seventh Sister said, an edge of amusement in her voice.  “I like you better down there.”

“Yes, Master,” he said quietly, settling back onto his knees and willing himself not to shudder at her words and the twisted sense of pleasure he felt emanating from her as she approached.  Something fluttered in his stomach as he wondered why she was here.  It wasn’t often that she was the one who gave him new assignments.  But she was always quick to volunteer when he’d done something wrong and needed to be punished for it.

“You’re being sent on a retrieval mission,” she said.  “The target is on Dennogra.”

“Yes, Master,” Twelfth Brother said, keeping his head bowed and his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

His shoulders stiffened as the Seventh Sister’s footsteps echoed on the duracrete floor, drawing closer to him.  She roughly grabbed his chin in one hand, holding his face in a tight, bruising grip as she forced him to look up at her.

“I assume I don’t need to remind you of what will happen if you fail,” she said, that all-too-familiar sadistic gleam in her eye, like she was _hoping_ he would fail and she’d get her chance to punish him for it.

“No, Master,” he said, fighting back the tremor that tried to work its way into his voice.

“Good boy,” she said, running her thumb along his lower lip.  His gut clenched, but he forced himself to keep still and not try to pull away.

The other Inquisitor tightened her grip for a moment, her eyes boring into his, before she released him and held out the datapad clutched in her hand.  The Twelfth Brother slowly reached out and took it, making the mistake of glancing down at the information on the screen while Seventh Sister was still watching him.  A tight knot formed in his throat as he saw the words “ _2 standard years_ ” listed under his target’s age.

“I thought we’d trained that out of you,” Seventh Sister said, sensing the Twelfth Brother’s hesitation.

“I--I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Twelfth Brother said, silently cursing the stammer in his voice.  He might as well have followed up his statement by admitting that it was a lie.

The Seventh Sister’s fist struck his face and he grunted, clenching his jaw so he didn’t cry out.

“Just remember that if you disappoint us again, we might not see a reason to keep you around,” she said, her voice perfectly calm, as if she wasn’t holding the threat of death over his head.

The Twelfth Brother’s teeth ground together as he stared down at the floor.  He knew exactly what she was talking about.  It had been over a year since that first solo retrieval mission, and he’d completed others since then with no problems, but that first failure was still held against him even now.

“I won't fail, Master,” he said, his voice a dull, emotionless monotone.

“See that you don’t,” she said before turning on her heel and leaving the cell.

As the door shut behind her, the Twelfth Brother’s shoulders slumped.  He stayed where he was for a moment before he forced himself to his feet, barely sparing a second glance at the information on the datapad.  The sooner he got this mission over with, the better.

* * *

 

“Kanan.”

As Kanan stopped in his tracks and looked back to see Ahsoka approaching him, something twisted nervously in his gut.  Hera was normally the one who dealt with Ahsoka, and they usually spoke over comms.  If Ahsoka was here in person, and it was Kanan she wanted to talk to, it meant a very specific kind of trouble.

“What’s wrong?” Kanan asked as he turned to face her.

“Does something have to be wrong?” she asked, an almost forced casualness to her voice.

“When you show up in person?” Kanan said, raising an eyebrow as he tried to inject even a little bit of levity into what he was certain was about to become a grim situation.  “Usually.”

Ahsoka’s mouth pressed into a tight line, her gaze dropping from Kanan’s face momentarily as she glanced out of the corner of her eye, as though looking for something.

“It’s Jedi business,” she said.

Now it was Kanan’s turn to look away from her.  He’d known it would be something like this.  Why else would Ahsoka want to talk to him instead of Hera?  He understood why she would come to him for “Jedi business,” but still it was all he could do not to flinch at the words.

“I guess I qualify,” he said, his voice bitter.

“You qualify more than I do,” Ahsoka said.

Kanan didn’t argue, but her words sent a sharp pang of guilt through his chest.  It wasn’t true.  Ahsoka may have left the Order, but she hadn't turned her back on everything she’d stood for.  When she’d left, she’d been on the brink of becoming a true Jedi Knight.  Kanan had only been a Padawan for a few months, and had spent the years since being the furthest thing he could be from a Jedi.

“Come on,” Ahsoka said.  “Let’s talk in private.”

Kanan hesitated for a moment before following Ahsoka up the loading ramp and onto the _Ghost_.  If this was about something as simple as a kyber shipment they needed to sabotage, Ahsoka wouldn’t be bothering with secrecy.

Once they were in his cabin with the door shut between them and the rest of the ship, Ahsoka turned toward him, all traces of that forced casualness gone.

“You remember the Inquisitor we encountered on Garel,” she said.  It wasn’t a question, but Kanan nodded anyway.

“I’m not going to forget that anytime soon,” he said.  The memory of the Miralan woman holding the emitter of her lightsaber against Sabine’s head was burned into his mind, haunting him every night as he tried to sleep, re-creating itself in dreams where he was too late to save the youngest member of his crew.

Kanan abruptly looked up, refocusing his gaze on Ahsoka.  He’d been so lost in the resurfacing memory that it took him a moment to realize why she would have brought it up.

“You’ve found something, haven’t you?” he asked.  Ahsoka nodded.

“I’ve been monitoring transmissions from their headquarters on Mustafar,” she said.  “It seems they have a secondary mission to make retrievals.”

“Retrievals of what?” Kanan asked.

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka said.  “The transmissions I was able to decrypt didn’t say.  But they _did_ give the coordinates of two that are about to happen.  I’m on my way to investigate one.”

“And you want me to check out the second,” Kanan finished for her.

“Exactly,” Ahsoka said.  She paused for a moment, and Kanan could practically see the gears turning in her head.  “I know what happened last time --”

“The more we can learn about them, the better our chances of stopping something like that from happening again,” Kanan said, cutting her off before she could try to apologize for asking him to do this.  Facing an Inquisitor again was the last thing he wanted to do, but the mysterious Force wielders were among the most dangerous agents of the Empire.  Any information they could find was worth the risk to himself at least.  And it was better him than someone else.

Ahsoka studied his face for a moment.  Her thoughts and emotions were carefully shielded, but Kanan was sure she didn’t believe that he was actually as okay with this as he was trying to convince her he was.

“Kanan,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully.  “I know you want to protect your crew, but you’re safer as a group.”

“I know,” Kanan said.  He didn’t _like_ it, but it was true.  Going up against an Inquisitor alone had almost cost him his life before.  As much as he wanted to keep them safe, they had all joined this fight knowing that they were putting their lives at risk, and they were all safer when they stood together.

“Good luck,” Ahsoka said.  “We’ll both need it.”


	3. Retrieval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: child abduction; nonconsensual use of tracking devices; surgery without anesthesia (not graphic, but immediate aftermath shown); descriptions of injuries from child abuse and torture

No one spared the Twelfth Brother a second glance as he made his way through the streets, weaving through the crowds of people going about everyday business.  It was easy enough to hide himself using the Force, encouraging people to ignore his presence.  Some of the other Inquisitors enjoyed it when people realized they were Imperial agents and quickly averted their eyes, keeping their heads down and moving away as quick as they could without actually running.  The Twelfth Brother preferred that no one notice him in the first place.

Finally, he reached the building the coordinates had led him to.  He glanced up, mentally counting until his eyes reached the fifth floor.  According to the information the Seventh Sister had given him, that was where the family lived.  He reigned his thoughts in before they could go any further.  He just had to do what he’d been sent here to do.  They didn’t want him to think about it.

He entered the building and quietly made his way through the corridors until he reached the lift.  Once he was inside it, he instinctively reached down and rested his hand on his lightsaber, as if to make sure it was still there.  Something about this didn’t feel right.  It was like an itch in the back of his mind, or the heat of someone standing right behind him.  He felt it so strongly that he found himself glancing over his shoulder as if he would find that someone had materialized in the lift with him.

The Twelfth Brother was so focused on that strange feeling that he jumped when the lift shuddered to a stop and the door opened.  Taking a breath to try and calm his heart down, he stepped into another corridor lit by dim, flickering lights.  Within moments, he found himself facing the door to the apartment where his target lived.  He reached out through the Force, unlocking the door with ease, one hand gripping his lightsaber, preparing to deal with any resistance he met.  But as the door opened, he was met with an empty room and no nearby presence in the Force.

They weren’t home.  In some ways, that actually made this easier.  He could just wait, hide somewhere in the apartment, and strike when they got home and let their defenses down.  It was much simpler than trying to track down one two-year-old child in a densely populated city.

He scanned the room with his eyes, searching for a good hiding place, desperately trying to ignore the feelings of warmth and safety that seemed built into the room itself.  Spending any amount of time dwelling on that wasn’t safe, he reminded himself.

He quickly crossed the room, opening a door and stopping short when he saw where it led.  The room beyond the door held a crib and a small bed for an older child.  His target had a sibling.  Ezra – this far away from the others, he could finally think of himself that way – abruptly took a step back, closing the door and cutting off his view of the children’s room.

In the back of his mind, he sensed something, different than what he’d felt in the lift.  Two people were approaching; one of them a young, newer presence that shone with the flickering flame of an untrained Force sensitive.  The Twelfth Brother removed his lightsaber from his belt and stood in the corner, where he wouldn’t be seen by anyone coming through the door until it was too late and would be able to move quickly to block any chance of escape.

He clutched the weapon tightly in his hand and closed his eyes for just a moment, centering himself and reminding himself of his mission and what would happen to him if he failed to complete it.  The memory of his punishment after that first failed retrieval surfacing in his mind, he opened his eyes again.  All he had to do now was wait.

* * *

 

Kanan’s eyes darted around as he walked down the street, carefully watching for…well, he didn’t know what, exactly.  He had no idea what the Inquisitor who was being sent here looked like, but he knew he would sense their presence if he got close enough to them.  Already, the Force felt heavy, the writhing tendrils of darkness clinging to it and dragging at it – at _him_.  Even in the middle of this part of the planet’s hottest season, a chill spread through the air, insistently pushing at Kanan’s mind.

“Getting close,” Sabine said quietly.  Kanan nodded to acknowledge her statement.  The coordinates Ahsoka had given them had led them to a residential neighborhood of a small city in the northern hemisphere of Dennogra.  The location just made Kanan more nervous than he already was.  What could the Inquisitors want here?

“You alright?” Zeb asked.

“Yeah,” Kanan said, keeping his voice low so only the Lasat could hear him.  “It’s just…” he glanced sideways at Sabine, who didn’t even seem to notice the look.  He hadn’t kept it a secret that he’d wanted her waiting on the _Ghost_ with Hera and Chopper, but Sabine wouldn’t hear it.  Kanan still didn’t know if it was out of a desire to protect her teammates or to prove herself.  Knowing her, it was probably both.

“That’s it,” Sabine said, stopping in her tracks and gesturing to a building a few meters ahead of them.

“Alright,” Kanan said with a nod.  “You two stay behind me.  I’ll track the Inquisitor.  And if I tell you to run, both of you _run_.  Understood?”

Zeb nodded, but Sabine hesitated for a moment before forcing out a begrudging “yes.”

Kanan led the way into the building, the two other members of his crew trailing just a few feet behind him.  Slowly, he lowered the mental shields that he’d put into place when they landed on the planet and reached out through the Force.  That writhing, clinging darkness seemed to wriggle into his mind, trying to find a place to hold on and drag him down into it.  The Inquisitor was here, not far away, on one of the floors above them.

Kanan led the rest of his team to the stairs, following the pull of that darkness.  As he reached toward the darkness, he felt something else beneath it; a strange feeling of…sorrow?  Something deep and aching like someone pressing heavily on a barely-healing bruise.  It felt just as alive as the darkness, but the way it clung to Kanan’s mind and pulled at it was different.  Less like a rope around his ankle, dragging him down into icy waters, and more like someone tugging at his hand, trying to get his attention.

When they reached the fourth floor, Kanan stopped in his tracks.

“One more level up,” he said quietly.  He removed his lightsaber from his belt and put the pieces together, letting the weapon settle into its natural place in his hand.  He didn’t need to look to know that Zeb had taken his bo-rifle from his back and Sabine had her hands resting on her blasters.

As they neared the fifth floor, Kanan jumped as a crash echoed above him and a shrill scream split the air.  Abandoning all attempts to stay quiet, Kanan ran up the stairs, Zeb and Sabine close behind him, and burst through the door into the corridor.  At the far end of the hallway, Kanan saw him.  The Inquisitor was moving swiftly toward a lift, a screaming human toddler in his arms.

As the lift doors opened, Kanan threw a hand out, forcing the doors to close again.  The Inquisitor turned on his heel, his yellow eyes widening slightly when he saw Kanan.  Kanan stopped in his tracks as he got a better look at the Inquisitor.  This wasn’t the imposing, terrifying figure he’d expected.  This was a kid.  He couldn’t even be Sabine’s age.

Kanan had no more time to think as Sabine drew one of her blasters.

“Stun!” Kanan said.  “You don’t want to hurt the kid.”

Sabine quickly set her weapon to stun and fired.  The Inquisitor ignited one of the blades of his lightsaber and deflected the bolt back at her, narrowly missing her.

Kanan ignited his own lightsaber and stepped forward into the narrow corridor.  The Inquisitor tightened his grip on his lightsaber and took a step back, his eyes darting around frantically, looking anywhere but at Kanan.  The child screamed even louder, kicking at the Inquisitor, who barely seemed to notice her struggles.

“Just leave the kid, and I’ll let you go,” Kanan said, though he didn’t for a moment intend to keep that promise.

The Inquisitor’s hand was shaking as he slashed his lightsaber wildly through the air in front of him, wordlessly warning Kanan to stay away.

“You’re outnumbered,” Kanan said.  “There’s no way out.”

The Inquisitor glanced around him, the frantic expression on his face making him look every bit like the child he was.  As he looked over his shoulder, Kanan could sense his unshielded burst of hope at the sight of the window, only for it to melt away as he realized it was too narrow for him to jump through.

Slowly, the Inquisitor’s shoulders dropped and he lowered his weapon, switching off the blade before dropping it to the floor.  He kicked the lightsaber across the floor toward Kanan and held the child out at arm’s length.

“Take her,” he said.  Kanan hesitated, wondering if this was a trick.  No matter how young he was, he hadn’t thought the Inquisitor would give up so easily.

“The mother’s alive,” the Inquisitor said, his voice hollow and empty of emotion.  “Unit 538.  She might be injured, but I don’t think I hurt her that badly.”

He stopped, taking a long, shuddering breath and swallowing nervously before he spoke again.

“And before you kill me,” he said.  “I have intel I think you’ll want.”

Finally, Kanan switched his own blade off, hanging the weapon on his belt.  As he stepped forward, he could feel Sabine and Zeb mentally tensing up, ready to act if this turned out to be a trick.  But the Inquisitor didn’t resist or attack as Kanan carefully took the sobbing child from his arms.

“Spectre Five,” he said, “take the kid and go check on the mother.”

Sabine put her blasters back in their holsters and stepped forward, gingerly taking the girl from Kanan’s arms, holding the kid like she was made of glass.  As Sabine turned and walked down the corridor, Kanan turned back to the young Inquisitor, sizing him up before looking over at Zeb.

“If he moves, stun him,” he said before he stepped away down the hall, pulling out his commlink.

“Spectre One to _Ghost_ ,” he said.  “We have a situation.”

_“What happened?”_ Hera asked.

“We found the kid the Inquisitors were after,” Kanan said.

_“The_ kid?” Hera repeated.

“Yeah,” Kanan said, his voice bitter.  “We also found the Inquisitor who was after her.”

_“And?”_   The tone in Hera’s voice told Kanan she knew there was more to it than that.

“He surrendered,” Kanan said.  “Handed over the kid and said he had intel we would want.  I think he wants to defect.”

There was silence on the other end of the call, just long enough that Kanan wondered if they had lost the signal.

“Spectre Two?”

_“Bring him to the ship,”_ Hera said.  _“We have protocols in place for defectors.”_

“On our way,” Kanan said.  As he said it, he saw Sabine emerge from a door down the hallway.

“The kid’s mom is okay,” she said.  She glanced over at the Inquisitor who was still backed against the wall, Zeb’s bo-rifle pointed at his chest.  “What are we gonna do with him?”

“We’re taking him back to the _Ghost_ as a prisoner,” Kanan said, calling the Inquisitor’s lightsaber to his hand and hanging it on his belt beside his own.  “Either of you have binders?”

When Sabine and Zeb both shook their heads, Kanan grimaced before turning back to the Inquisitor.

“If you make trouble, we’ll stun you,” he said.  “Understand?”

The boy – _kriff, he really_ is _just a boy_ , Kanan thought – nodded.  As Kanan took hold of his arm, his gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulder rising into a defensive position.  The boy didn’t struggle, but Kanan could sense his fear as he was led down the corridor toward the lift.

Once they were outside, Zeb slung his bo-rifle back over his shoulder, knowing it would be conspicuous if the kept it pointed at the Inquisitor as they walked down the street.  Sabine stepped forward behind Kanan, drawing one of her blasters and aiming it at the Inquisitor’s back.  As the end of the blaster nudged against his spine, the boy flinched violently enough to wrench his arm from Kanan’s grip.  Kanan sensed Sabine spike of fear and put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Easy,” he said.  “He’s not running.”

* * *

 

They reached the spaceport where the _Ghost_ was landed without any further incident.  The whole way there, Kanan had sensed the Inquisitor’s fear and his desperation to hide it.  It hung heavily in the air around him like a storm about to break.  Now, they all sat in the common room, tension filling the space as every member of the crew tried their best to keep an eye on the Inquisitor without actually looking at him.

“We can’t just bring an Inquisitor back to the base,” Sabine was saying.  One of her blasters was resting on her lap, her hand clutched lightly around it.

“We’re not,” Kanan said.  He glanced at the boy, who was sitting in the corner, his hands now cuffed in front of him.  He was staring down at the floor, not reacting to their words, as if he was used to being spoken about rather than to.  “We’re keeping him on the _Ghost_ until we get clearance to take him to the base.  We’ll make sure he’s not being tracked and –”

“I am.”

The room went silent and still at the sound of the Inquisitor’s voice.  None of them had expected him to speak up or to so readily admit to being tracked.

“There’s a tracker embedded in my right shoulder,” the Inquisitor said.  Kanan couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of sympathy at the tired resignation in his voice.

“Before we do anything else, we have to remove it,” Hera said.  “We can't risk the Empire tracking us down before we can even get him to the base for interrogation.”

The boy’s shoulders stiffened at the word “interrogation,” but he quickly forced himself to appear calm and nodded.

“Sabine,” Hera said, “get the medkit.  Kanan, I’ll need you here.”

As Sabine left the room, Hera turned to the Inquisitor.  His shoulders stiffened again and Kanan felt his mind go still, like he was shrinking back from Hera’s gaze.  Hera gently took hold of the boy’s arm and pulled his hands forward, removing his cuffs.

“I need you to take your shirt off,” she said.  Kanan could just see the tremor in the boy’s hands as he did so, his hands balling into fists around his shirt as his eyes glazed over.

The door opened and Sabine entered, carrying the small box where they kept their medical supplies.  Hera took it and set it on the holotable.

“You should go,” Hera said.  “You don’t need to see this.”

Before Sabine could argue, Zeb stood up and clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, kid,” he said, leading her out of the room.

Kanan couldn’t help but notice that the tension in the Inquisitor’s shoulders seemed to ease just slightly once Sabine and Zeb left.  In a way, Kanan knew it made sense.  They’d have to sedate the boy before removing the tracker.  Sabine and Zeb would just be two more people in the room while he was vulnerable.

“You can lie down over here,” Hera said, gently putting a hand on the boy’s arm and leading him to a bench along the wall.  At a gentle nudge from her, the boy lay face down on the bench.  His breath was now sharp and shaking, and Kanan didn’t need the Force to sense how hard he was fighting to remain calm.

As Hera loaded a hypospray needle with a sedative, the boy’s head snapped up.

“No,” the Inquisitor said, quickly pulling away from Hera.  “I don’t – you should save that for your own people.  Don’t waste it on me.”

“We have plenty for ourselves,” Hera said.  “You shouldn’t be awake for this.”

Even though his voice had been calm, Kanan could sense the boy’s fear screaming through the Force.  The boy’s eyes darted around the room as if looking for an escape route, and for the brief moment that they rested on Kanan, he could sense the faintest hint of connection, and the smallest, almost imperceptible plea.

_Help._

“He’s right,” Kanan said.  “Our supply is getting low.”

Hera looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as they met his.  Kanan quickly glanced at the Inquisitor, who was staring at him, his yellow eyes wide, now pushing that quiet plea through the Force toward him.

_Please don’t._

In that moment, as he sensed the Inquisitor’s sheer terror at the sight of the hypospray, Kanan saw the kid in a whole new light.  It had been clear from the first glance that the Inquisitor was a child, but he hadn’t seemed so much like a scared little kid until now as he lay there, trying desperately to avoid being drugged and fearing that they would just do it anyway.

“He’ll be alright without it,” Kanan said.

Hera held his gaze for a moment before she set the hypospray aside.

“If you change your mind, tell me,” she said.  The boy nodded, though Kanan was certain he had no intention of asking for the sedative, no matter how much pain he was in.

“Okay,” Hera said, kneeling down beside the bench.  “I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

Kanan knelt down next to her, putting his hand on the boy’s left shoulder, ready to hold him down if he had to.  The thought of doing this without a sedative turned Kanan’s stomach, but after sensing the boy’s fear, he couldn’t bring himself to insist on it.

As Hera removed a disposable scalpel from the medkit, the boy gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

 

True to her word, Hera made quick work of removing the tracker.  Within minutes, it had been pulled from the Inquisitor’s shoulder, the wound covered by a bacta patch and the tracker destroyed.

Now, the boy was slumped against the wall, shaking.  He kept his head bowed in an effort to hide the tears that still slid down his face.  Not wanting to intrude, Kanan looked away momentarily, focusing on cleaning up the blood that had spilled onto the floor, but his eyes were quickly drawn back to the boy again.  With his shirt still off, his scars were clearly visible, covering his chest.  Kanan recognized the long, thin marks left by an electrowhip, the jagged scars from a vibroblade, and even a dark spot from a healed blaster wound.  Kanan had gained plenty of similar scars over the years, but none that compared to the ones that kept drawing his eyes back to the boy.

On the left side of his chest, directly over his heart, was a burn in the familiar shape of the Imperial Cog.  There was an identical scar on the right side of his abdomen, and a third on his right forearm.

The boy looked up and flinched when he saw Kanan’s eyes on him, too exhausted to stop himself, and hunched over, turning slightly to hide Kanan’s view of his chest.  That only exposed his back, with its own twisted collage of scars.

Kanan set aside the rag he was using to mop up the blood and stood up, putting a hand on the boy’s uninjured shoulder.  The boy flinched, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him.  Kanan could sense his fear twisting through the air around him.

The boy.  Kanan realized with a start that the whole time, he’d been thinking of him as _the Inquisitor_ or _the boy_.

“I didn’t realize,” Kanan said, his voice gentle, “we never asked you your name.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, his fear once again screaming through the Force.

“It’s okay,” Kanan said.  “You can tell me.”

“…Ezra,” the boy said quietly.  His shoulders went stiff as he spoke, as if he were expecting a blow.

"Kanan."

Ezra's only response was to stare wordlessly up at Kanan and blink, unsure of what to say.

“Come on,” Kanan said, “you should rest.”

He gestured for the kid to follow him, and the boy stood up, his movement almost automatic as he trailed behind Kanan.  Once they reached his own cabin, Kanan led the boy inside.

“Do you need painkillers?” Kanan asked.

Ezra shook his head.

“I’m okay without them,” he said, his voice still holding a slight tremor as tears welled up in his eyes.  “I’ve been hurt worse.”

Once again, Kanan found his eyes being drawn to the brand on the boy’s chest.  Ezra looked down, his eyes widening slightly as if he’d only just realized Kanan could see the mark.  He quickly turned around and began to pull his shirt over his head, gasping sharply as he moved his right arm too quickly.  He quickly clenched his jaw, his shoulders stiffening up again, like he was afraid of how Kanan would react to him showing a sign of pain.

“You sure you’re alright?” Kanan asked, keeping his voice as calm as he could, not wanting to scare the kid even more.

Ezra nodded.  “I’m fine,” he said, his voice much too weak for Kanan to believe him.

“We’ll find out soon if we can take you back to our base,” Kanan said.  He hesitated before reaching toward his belt and the binders that hung from it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “But I can’t leave you alone without these.”

Ezra’s eyes locked onto the restraints, his mouth pressing into a tight line before he slowly held his hands out in front of him.  As Kanan approached, Ezra’s hands twitched, drawing slightly back toward his chest, and Kanan’s heart skipped a beat.  He didn’t know what he would be able to do if the kid resisted being restrained.  But before he could think beyond that, Ezra extended his arms again.

Kanan locked the cuffs around Ezra’s wrists, binding his hands to one of the metal supports at the edge of the bunk.  A sharp pang of guilt shot through Kanan’s chest as he saw that the boy’s hands were shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said.  “And I know it’s not the most comfortable thing right now, but try to get some rest if you can.”

Ezra nodded, and without another word, Kanan walked out the door, leaving the kid alone in the room.

* * *

 

Once the door closed, Ezra pulled himself along the edge of the bunk, sliding closer to the support his hands were cuffed to.  He could feel the tears still clinging to his face, a hot ball of shame forming in his stomach as even more welled up in his eyes.

None of this felt real.  Even as the pilot had cut into his shoulder with a scalpel, it hadn’t felt real.  This wasn’t something that could really happen to him.  He’d learned long ago that no one was ever going to save him, that there was no way out, that he was Imperial property and nothing but his own death would change that.

But now he was here, on a rebel ship with his tracker removed and destroyed before his eyes.  He could feel the pain in his shoulder where the scalpel had cut into his skin.  As he looked around the room, he could see how different it was from the dark, bare cell he’d lived in on Mustafar.  And none of it could really be happening.

Ezra bit down on his lower lip, tasting blood.  His breath caught in his throat as he imagined himself waking up, still on Mustafar, with nothing having changed.  He held his breath for a moment, waiting, but nothing happened, and on some level, he’d known nothing would.  As unreal as it felt, he _knew_ this was really happening.

Soon, he’d be taken to the rebellion.  Once he made it there, this would all be over.


	4. Return to Chopper Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: references to torture

When Kanan reached the cockpit, he found Hera waiting for him.  As she glanced back over her shoulder at him, Kanan could easily sense something that wasn’t quite anger, and the familiar pinpricks of concern.

“What was that?” Hera asked.

“What was what?” Kanan asked as he sat down in the copilot’s seat beside her.

“The sedative,” Hera asked, irritation in her voice as she turned her seat to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back in her seat.  “You know we have plenty, and he shouldn’t have had to be awake for that.”

“Hera, he was…” Kanan’s voice trailed off at the memory of the terror he had felt pulsing through the Force, at the boy’s silent plea for help as he reached out, knowing Kanan was the only one who could sense his fear.  “It wasn’t just that he didn’t want it.  He was terrified.  He thought that if we sedated him, we were going to hurt him.”

Hera’s mouth pressed into a line as her shoulders dropped slightly, and Kanan knew she understood his reasoning, even if she didn’t agree with it.

“Hera,” Kanan said.  “You know me.  I wouldn’t suggest not using a sedative without a good reason.”

“I know,” Hera said with a small sigh.  “He still shouldn’t have been awake for that.”

That was when Kanan realized that her hands were shaking just slightly.  He may have been the one to agree with the kid’s refusal of the sedative, but Hera was the one who’d cut into him without it.

“I contacted Chopper Base,” Hera said, her tone shifting as she pushed past the painful moment.  “I didn’t want to risk an open transmission, but we should hear back soon about how they want us to proceed with the Inquisitor.”

Kanan nodded, choosing not to return to the topic of the sedative if Hera didn’t want to discuss it.

“He told me his name,” he said.  “It’s Ezra.”

“I wasn’t expecting a kid,” Hera said.

“Neither was I,” Kanan said.  “Though I guess I wouldn’t put that past the Inquisitors.”

Before either of them could say another word, a light flashed on the control panel in front of Hera.

“Message from Commander Sato,” Hera said.  “I guess this is it.”

* * *

 

Ezra jumped when the door opened.  For hours now, he had been sitting on the very edge of the bunk, not moving, not knowing what to do.  He shrank back instinctively as Kanan entered the room.

“We got authorization to take you back to the base,” Kanan said.  “We’ll be out of hyperspace soon.”

Ezra felt like he was supposed to say something in response to that, but he couldn’t think of what.  At the Jedi’s words, fear had begun to build in his chest, humming like a swarm of gnats trying to find a way out of him.  He’d known when he’d decided to offer himself up as a prisoner that he was going to be taken to their base and interrogated, but now that it was imminent, he was growing more and more afraid by the second.

He tried to tell himself that he had no reason to be afraid.  He’d tell them everything willingly.  They wouldn't have any reason to torture him for information.  Then again, in his experience, people didn’t _need_ a reason.

Before he could even wrap his head around why, Ezra felt himself twitch.  A moment later, he realized the cause of the reaction.  He could sense the Jedi’s sympathy through the Force.  It felt like a sharp metal spike being driven into his head; painful and terrifying and _no this can't be happening this_ doesn’t happen.

“Ezra,” Kanan said.  Ezra flinched at the gentle tone in his voice.  “You’ll be treated fairly there.”

Ezra looked down at the floor, not saying anything.  He didn’t know what Kanan meant by that.  With a soft metallic _click_ , one of the cuffs around Ezra’s wrists opened and he chanced a quick glance up, only to quickly avert his eyes again.  He took a deep breath before he stood up, not resisting as Kanan took hold of his free hand and cuffed it again.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said.

“I – I understand,” Ezra said, silently cursing the tremor in his voice.  He _knew_ why Kanan was doing this, but feeling the binders locked around his wrists still made his heart pound like it was trying to escape from his chest.

_“Kanan.”_

Ezra jumped as the pilot’s voice crackled through a commlink in the Jedi’s hand.

_“We’ve reached Chopper Base,”_ the pilot said.

“I’m bringing the kid to the cargo bay now,” Kanan said before he turned his attention back to Ezra.  “Come on.  We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”

Ezra steeled himself as he followed Kanan out of the room.  He tried not to look at the binders, but he could feel them bumping against his wrists with every step he took.  He let himself close his eyes for just a moment, trying to steady his nerves.  He’d been restrained before, and in worse ways than this.  He’d survived that, and he would survive this, too.

Kanan, to his credit, didn’t say anything to Ezra as they made their way through the ship.  Ezra knew there was nothing the Jedi could say that would reassure him, no matter how much it seemed like he wanted to.  When they reached the cargo bay, they waited, the ship jolting slightly in a way that told Ezra they’d entered the atmosphere of a planet.

Ezra’s heart was pounding harder and harder with each passing second.  Every instinct that had been drilled into him by his years in prison and with the Inquisitors screamed at him to submit, to give in and do whatever they wanted.  It didn’t even make any sense.  Kanan wasn’t _doing_ anything to him.  And he’d already decided he was going to tell them everything he knew.  That was the whole point of surrendering in the first place.

So why did he feel like he always did when one of his masters entered his cell?  Small and scared and desperate to make everything _stop._

Ezra fought to keep himself from shaking as a soft mechanical whine signaled the engines powering down.  He was just starting to succeed at calming himself down when the loading ramp lowered and his stomach clenched at the sight that greeted him.  Five guards, armed with blasters, waiting.  Waiting for him.

Ezra gasped and jumped as Kanan rested a hand on his shoulder, as if to comfort him.  He flinched again when he saw a blur of movement in the corner of his vision, only to realize that it was just the pilot, who’s name he still hadn’t learned, sliding down the ladder into the cargo bay.

“Don’t be scared,” Kanan said.  “You’ll be alright.”

Ezra nodded, unable to make himself speak to acknowledge the Jedi’s words.

“Captain Syndulla,” one of the guards, a blue-skinned Togruta woman with a long, thin scar on her right cheek, said as the five of them stepped onto the ramp.  “Commanders Sato and Tano want to see your crew in the command center for a full debriefing.  We’re to escort the Inquisitor to the detention block.”

Kanan released his grip on Ezra’s shoulder and the Togruta stepped forward, her hand closing around Ezra’s upper arm.

“Don’t try anything,” she said.  It didn’t sound like she was genuinely threatening him, but still Ezra fought against the instinct to flinch.  He didn’t even understand why.  It was as if his control over his fear had been slowly scraped away during the hours he’d spent on the ship.

“He won't make trouble,” Kanan said.

Ezra nodded, still not able to get himself to speak.  The realization that he couldn’t think through the process of forming words sent a jolt of panic shooting through him.  What if they tried to interrogate him and he couldn’t talk?  What would they do to him?

He hadn’t realized that he’d stopped in his tracks until the Togruta who was trying to lead him gave a gentle tug on his arm.

“Come on,” she said.  Slowly, Ezra managed to make himself follow her.  The four other guards fell into step around them, two ahead of them and two behind, leading him off of the ship and onto the sandy ground of a desert planet.

Ezra glanced at his surroundings as he followed the guards.  For a group operating on the fringes with limited resources, the rebels appeared to have put together an impressively functional base, at least from what Ezra could see.  As he walked, he mentally ran through the names of every desert planet he could remember and images he’d seen or memories he had of them.  Of course, he didn’t know all of them, and this one, he couldn’t identify.

_It doesn’t matter_ , he told himself.  _You’re not taking this information back to anyone._

As the thought formed in his mind, he looked back down at the ground in front of his feet, not wanting the guards to see him looking around at their base and think he _was_ planning to bring information back to the Inquisitors.  His head spun and he almost felt dizzy as he tried to wrap his head around it.  He wasn’t going back.  He was a prisoner of the rebellion now.  He might not be truly free, but he was free from _them_ at least.

It wasn’t long before the guards led him into a small, low building on the eastern edge of the base.  Ezra’s stomach churned as he saw the short row of cells, all of them empty.  When they stopped outside the nearest one, the Togruta released her hold on him and removed his binders.  Ezra hesitated for a moment, just long enough for the Togruta to give him a quick nudge between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t make any trouble, kid,” she said.

Ezra steeled himself and stepped forward, entering the cell.  The moment he crossed through the doorway, a ray shield was activated behind him, the sudden sound causing him to jump.  When he turned around, he saw the Togruta watching him, her face carefully expressionless.

“I can't say when your interrogation will be yet,” she said.  “Someone will tell you when we know.”

Ezra couldn’t think of how to respond to that, but thankfully, that seemed to be all she wanted to say.  She turned away from the cell, motioning for the other guards to follow her.  Ezra watched them leave, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he realized that he wasn’t going to be watched at all times.  He’d been expecting it.  It would only make sense.  But nonetheless, he was relieved to know that he was being left alone, at least for now.

He sank onto the bunk built into the cell’s back wall, hugging his arms around himself.  He’d made it this far.  He just had to hold on a little longer.

* * *

 

“He just surrendered?” Sato asked.  “Without fighting back?”

“He attacked once,” Kanan said, though when it came down to it, Commander Sato was basically correct.  “But he was outnumbered, and we had him pinned down.”

He hesitated for a moment, struggling to think of how best to explain what he wanted to tell them.

“Kanan?” Ahsoka prompted.

“I think he really did _want_ to surrender,” he said.  “It wasn’t just that we had him cornered.  It was like…”

“Like he’d planned to give up,” Zeb said, finishing Kanan’s thought when Kanan’s voice trailed off again.

Ahsoka and Sato glanced at each other, and Kanan didn’t miss the knowing look they exchanged.

“You thought the same thing,” Hera said, also picking up the silent conversation between the two commanders.

Ahsoka nodded.

“We can’t ignore the possibility that he could have been sent here as a spy,” she said.

“We destroyed his tracker,” Hera said.  “And his commlink.  Chopper didn’t pick up any other signals from him.”

“There’s also the Force to consider,” Ahsoka said.  “If he has a strong enough bond with any of the other Inquisitors, he could use it to send them a message.”

“And what exactly can we do about that?” Sato asked.

“Nothing,” Ahsoka said.  “Short of breaking through his shields to monitor what goes on inside his head.”

“Which we can’t do,” Kanan said, his eyes widening slightly.  He’d never have expected Ahsoka would suggest something like that.

“I never said we were going to,” Ahsoka said.  “But I’ll be keeping a close eye on him until we can be sure he’s not a threat.”

A tense silence fell over the room as they all found themselves considering the very thing they’d been trying to avoid thinking about.

“This does feel a little too convenient,” Hera said.  Even speaking in her normal tone, her voice sounded so quiet as she broke the silence.  “An Inquisitor just surrendering, offering to give us any information we want.”

“He’s not just an Inquisitor,” Kanan said.  “He’s a kid.  And he’s scared.”

As he said it, the image of Ezra hesitating to follow the guards off of the _Ghost_ swam to the surface of his mind.  Kanan would put the boy’s age at around fifteen or sixteen years old, but for just a second, he had seemed so much younger; a child flinching away from an adult he was sure was going to hurt him.  And now, he was locked in a cell, alone, and probably expecting the worst.

“Can I see him?” Kanan asked, barely aware that he was even speaking, barely aware that he even _wanted_ to visit the kid.

Ahsoka and Sato exchanged another look, and Kanan could have sworn he felt something close to _amusement_ flit through Ahsoka’s mind, like she’d been expecting the question.

“Not yet,” Sato said.  “Only members of command and rebel intelligence can see him until he’s been debriefed.”

“And when will that happen?” Kanan asked.

“The interrogation starts tomorrow,” Ahsoka said.  “When it ends depends on how much information he has for us.”

Kanan’s mouth pressed into a tight line.  He knew why they had these protocols, and in most cases, he didn’t mind.  He wasn’t even sure why he minded in this case.  It wasn't the kid's age.  They’d had young defectors before, mostly Imperial cadets and on two occasions, the children of high-ranking officials.  They were never hurt during their detention or interrogation.  Once command was satisfied that they weren’t spies, they were released and allowed to join the rebellion, or given new identities if they didn’t want to stay after giving up their information.

But none of them had been Inquisitors.  And none of them had radiated the sheer terror he’d felt pouring off of the boy.

“Kanan,” Ahsoka said, jolting him out of his thoughts.  “You can see him as soon as we’ve finished.”

Kanan nodded.  That was going to have to be good enough.


	5. Detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: references to child abuse and torture

Ezra was huddled in the corner of the bunk, his knees pulled up to his chest, biting down on the back of his hand as he shivered.  His chest ached; a dull, empty pain like he was collapsing in on himself.  The interrogation had gone on for three days.  He’d wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, but Commander Tano had insisted he take breaks rather than pushing through.  So it had been drawn out over three long, agonizing days.  But it was over now, at least.

Ezra shivered, tightening his arms around his knees.  Since the very first day of the interrogation, the memories of the things he’d been asked about replayed over and over in his head.  He couldn’t ignore them or block them out or distract himself.  He didn’t know how.  And now that he was no longer guarded around the clock now that his interrogation was over, he was alone with nothing to do but think.

They’d almost seemed _concerned_.  Exchanging sympathetic looks, asking him if he wanted to stop, offering him water.  It didn’t make any sense.  At the very least, Tano should have been reaching into his mind to make sure he was telling the truth.  But she hadn’t done it, at least not that he could tell.  No one had laid a hand on him, either.  No one had even raised their voice.  And yet he still felt like he’d been slowly, painfully hollowed out, everything inside him scraped away by their questions and their note-taking and their _pity_.

The pity was probably the worst part.  He didn’t need it.  He didn’t _want_ it.  He’d survived six years without anyone feeling sorry for him or being sympathetic to his pain.  Having people feel that way toward him now made him want to claw his skin off.  And right now, that feeling was growing stronger and stronger with each passing second, even though he was alone without the feeling of those sympathetic gazes pricking at him like needles against his skin.

The door opened and Ezra jumped, pressing himself farther back into the corner.  He stared wide-eyed at the ray shield as footsteps drew closer.  His heart was pounding.  He’d thought they were done with the interrogation.  He didn’t know if he could take another day of their questions, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He flinched as someone appeared on the other side of the ray shield, only to narrow his eyes when he saw that it was Kanan.  He hadn’t seen the Jedi since the day he’d been handed off to the guards who’d brought him to his cell.  Not that he’d particularly wanted to see him, or expected the man to come visit him.

Ezra stared blankly at Kanan, unsure of what to say.  Kanan didn’t seem to know what to say either, because he quickly looked away, one hand briefly rubbing the back of his neck before he straightened up and faced Ezra again.

“How are you?” he asked.  Ezra shrugged.  He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him that before he came to the base.

“I wanted to come see you sooner,” Kanan said.  “But I wasn’t allowed to.”

“Why?” Ezra asked, his head tilting to the side as he narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Only members of command or intelligence are allowed to talk to defectors until they’ve been fully debriefed,” Kanan said.

“I mean why did you want to see me,” Ezra said.

For a moment, Kanan was silent, and Ezra could sense what almost seemed like shock burst through his mind before it quickly faded, replaced by that nauseating pity again.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Kanan said.  “And I –” he stopped speaking for a moment, looking away as if embarrassed by what he was about to say.  “I feel responsible for you.”

Ezra couldn’t help but let out a brief laugh, only to find himself trying to avoid thinking about how unfamiliar that sound was.  Not even knowing why, he found himself moving out of his corner, dangling his legs over the edge of the bunk so they swung just above the floor, his shoulders dropping out of their hunched, defensive posture.

“You’re not,” he said, desperately trying to ignore the flicker of warmth in his chest at the Jedi’s words.

“Someone needs to be,” Kanan said, his voice quiet, almost as though he were talking to himself rather than to Ezra.

Ezra’s eyes narrowed again as he mentally stomped down on that feeling of warmth.  He didn’t need it.  He didn’t _want_ it.  He was more than strong enough to do without it.

“I’m not a little kid,” he snapped, forcing more bitter anger into his voice than he actually felt.  “I’m responsible for myself.  I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

Kanan seemed taken aback by his outburst, and Ezra felt his shoulders tense up again.  He never would have gotten away with speaking to one of his masters like that, and he had no idea how Kanan would react.  He tried to calm the fear that burst to life in his head by silently repeating what he’d been taught about the Jedi.  They were weak.  They didn’t have the power or the drive to truly do any damage to their enemies.  It was why they’d been so easy to destroy in the first place…

But the stories his parents had told him said the opposite.  The Jedi were powerful; they were warriors; they were nearly unstoppable until the Empire had managed to defeat them.  But those were just stories, weren’t they?  Told to a terrified, imprisoned child to give him a better, more just galaxy to imagine.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said, his voice snapping Ezra out of his spiraling thoughts.  “I didn’t mean –” he sighed.  “I know you’re not just a kid.  And I barely know you.  That was…”  He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Ezra shrank in on himself, his shoulders dropping again, suddenly embarrassed by what he’d said.  He didn’t want to admit it, but he liked the fact that Kanan was talking to him and being… _kind_?

“Have you been seen by a medic yet?” Kanan asked.  Ezra nodded.

“Just a few scrapes and bruises,” he said.  “Other than that, I’m fine.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but he doubted that Kanan actually wanted to hear the details of what the medics had told him about his permanent injuries from the beatings and torture he’d suffered in prison and at the hands of the Inquisitors, or the psychological tests they’d put him through.

Silence fell between them, and Ezra couldn’t help but wonder if Kanan knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Ezra,” Kanan said.  Something inside Ezra squirmed at the sound of the name.  It had been so long since anyone had used it.  “Are you okay?”

“I just told you –”

“Not physically,” Kanan said.

Ezra pressed his mouth into a tight line.  How was he even supposed to answer that?  He was the farthest thing from okay.  He felt like he’d spent the past three days being stomped on, chewed up, and spit out over and over again.  But he didn’t know how to explain that to Kanan.  No matter what Kanan said about feeling responsible for him, he didn’t know why Kanan would care how he felt about a situation he’d willingly put himself in.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You sure?”

Ezra nodded.  “It – it just wasn’t easy,” he said.  He squirmed where he sat, suddenly feeling like Kanan’s eyes were boring into him, digging into his mind, seeing right through him.  “I – I kind of just want to be alone.”

By the time he reached the end of the sentence, his voice was barely above a whisper, and his shoulders had crept up toward his ears again as he dropped his gaze to the floor.  He wasn’t supposed to _want_ anything.  He couldn’t just ask for something like that.

“Okay,” Kanan said with a nod.  “I’ll go.  But if it’s okay with you, I’ll come back and see you again soon.”

Ezra cautiously lifted his gaze from the floor before quickly looking away again.  What did it matter if something was okay with him or not?  Still, he forced himself to nod.

“I—I’d like that,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Then I promise I will,” Kanan said.

As he walked away, Ezra slid back into his corner again, hugging his arms around himself.  That dull ache in his chest was still there, but it had eased just enough to let him breathe again.

* * *

 

As Kanan left the detention building, he leaned against the wall for a moment and let out a heavy sigh.  The air had felt so much heavier in there, weighed down with despair and hopelessness and pain.

For the few hours that Ezra had been on the _Ghost_ , he certainly hadn’t been calm or happy.  His fear had clung to him like ropes tied tightly around his body, cutting off everything else.  Kanan could easily sense it, even as the kid had tried to hold it inside.  Now, Ezra wasn’t bothering to hold anything in.  He didn’t even have the willpower to try.  He was too ground down to do anything but let it rage around him, as if it was trying to drown him.

As Kanan straightened up, he realized his hands were shaking as he wondered what could have caused such a drastic change.  What had happened during the kid’s debriefing to break him so thoroughly?

As he made his way across the base to where the _Ghost_ was set down, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Ahsoka’s ship, the _Nova_.  Barely even realizing he was doing it, he found himself walking toward the ship’s lowered entry ramp.  He stepped onto it, reaching out through the Force and calling to Ahsoka.  Ahsoka’s presence brushed up against his mind, acknowledging him.

As Kanan waited, he found himself wondering what he even planned to say to Ahsoka when he saw her.  Walking to the _Nova_ had been an impulse decision.  He hadn’t thought any of this through.

When Ahsoka emerged onto the ramp, the words jumped from Kanan’s mouth without any thought.

“What happened to him?”

“What happened to who?” Ahsoka asked.

“The kid,” Kanan said.  “The Inquisitor.”

Ahsoka’s mouth pressed into a tight line, her eyes dropping from Kanan’s for a moment.

“How is he?” she asked, her voice suddenly much quieter.

“Hurting,” Kanan said.  “He says he’s fine, but I know he’s lying.  He wasn’t doing great when I brought him here, but he wasn’t like _this_.  What happened?”

“Come with me,” Ahsoka said.

Taken aback, Kanan took a moment to realize that she meant it as she turned around and walked back onto her ship.  He followed, his hands finding their way into his pockets as Ahsoka led him to her quarters.  Kanan hovered awkwardly in the doorway as Ahsoka picked up a datapad and removed a datacard from it.

“Here,” she said, turning back to him and handing him the card.

“What is it?” Kanan asked.

“It’s his debriefing.”

Kanan stared down at the datacard for a moment.  His hand almost seemed to be tingling, as if he’d just received a brief electric shock.

“Am I even allowed to have this?” he asked.

“Your clearance is high enough to see it,” Ahsoka said.  “But if it gets out –”

“It won't,” Kanan said.

“Good,” Ahsoka said.  “That boy has been through enough already.”

Kanan’s stomach clenched at her statement, but he didn’t ask what she meant.  He’d find out soon enough.

“Thank you,” Kanan said quietly.  As he turned to leave, he felt a hand on his shoulder and stopped in his tracks.

“Kanan,” Ahsoka said.  “It’s bad.  Just…be prepared.”

* * *

 

Kanan sat in a corner of his bunk, his datapad propped up against his knees.  He stared down at the datacard Ahsoka had given him, fiddling with it for a moment as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to see.  In one quick motion, he inserted the card into the datapad and opened the first of the three files contained on it.

An image of the kid appeared on the screen.  He was sitting in a metal chair in front of a table, his hands clenched tightly together in his lap, his shoulders raised, and his head hanging slightly so he didn’t have to look at the people who were questioning him.

_“Can you state your name for the record?”_   That was Ahsoka’s voice.

The kid’s posture, already rigid, went even stiffer.  He opened his mouth just slightly, but didn’t speak.  Kanan could have sworn he saw the kid’s hands shaking.

_“E—Ezra Br—”_ his voice cut off and his eyes snapped shut as he tensed up for a moment, like he was bracing himself for something.  After a moment, he forced his eyes open and continued to speak.

_“Ezra Bridger.”_

* * *

 

Kanan had been watching for hours now, listening to the kid tell his story, going over everything he was asked about in excruciating detail.  His imprisonment with his parents, his discovery by the Inquisitors, everything that had been done to him in the name of training him to become an effective tool for the Empire.  After hour upon hour of hearing it, Kanan was starting to feel nauseous.

_“They – they told me to – to –”_ the kid’s voice broke off as he gasped for air.  His hands were clenched around the edge of the table in front of him, his chin dropping down to his chest, his hair hanging down so Kanan couldn’t see his face.

_“Do you need to stop for a minute?”_ Ahsoka asked.

_“N—no,”_ Ezra said, shaking his head vigorously.  _“No, I – I – they told me –”_

His voice broke off again.  The boy’s hands tightened around the edge of the table, his arms shaking as he began to rock where he sat.

_“Let’s stop,”_ Ahsoka said.  _“Here.”_

Her hand appeared in the frame as she pushed a cup of what Kanan assumed was water toward the kid.  Ezra slowly released the edge of the table and closed his hands around the cup.  He tried to lift it, but his hands were shaking so much he had to put it down again.  His hands flew up to his face, covering it as he gasped for air like he’d just been held underwater.

_“I had to – to go into her head and pull out information,”_ Ezra said, his voice muffled slightly.  _“They said I – I can c—connect, th—that all I was good for was –”_

His voice broke off again.  He looked like he was about to collapse right out of the chair and onto the floor.  As the kid drew in a long, shaking breath, the video cut off, going dark for a moment before the image of the kid returned.  He looked much more composed now, though he still held himself like he was about to shatter at any second.

Before he could hear another word, Kanan paused the video.  He set the datapad aside, running a hand through his hair.  This would certainly explain what he’d sensed when he visited the kid in his cell.  Just watching part of the debriefing had left Kanan feeling exhausted and sick.  And unlike Ezra, he hadn’t had to experience it all firsthand.

Kanan glanced down at the datapad again and stared at the image of the kid, wondering what was going to happen to him next, whether he would stay with the rebellion or not, and if he did, what exactly he would be doing.  Defector or not, he wasn’t sure how many squadrons would be willing to accept a former Inquisitor into their ranks.

The obvious answer was Ahsoka.  She was a Jedi.  She could help a kid who’d been poisoned by the dark side and traumatized by the Empire better than anyone else on the base could.

Kanan quickly switched off the datapad.  Part of him wanted to push through and keep watching, a small voice in the back of his head telling him that the kid had had to go through the debriefing all at once, so what right did he have to stop.  But he couldn’t take hearing any more of it right now.

He stood up, leaving the datapad on his bunk.  He’d be visiting the kid again tomorrow.  He didn’t like the thought of him alone in his cell with no one to talk to.  But Ezra had said he wanted to be alone, so for now, Kanan would find Sabine.  He’d listen to her talking about whatever she was doing with the art on her walls and let himself think about something other than the horrors the kid had been recounting, just for a while.

* * *

 

Ezra was surprised to realize that when he heard the door open, his first thought was wondering if it was Kanan coming back to see him.  He was even more surprised to find that he was glad to see the Jedi when he appeared on the other side of the ray shield.  He scooted to the edge of the bunk rather than keep hiding in the corner, and when he looked up he saw a smile twitch across the Jedi’s face for just a moment.

“How are you holding up?” Kanan asked.

“Better,” Ezra said with a shrug.

Kanan’s mouth pressed into a tight line, his smile vanishing for a moment, before he forced it back onto his face.  Ezra’s eyes narrowed as the sharp prickle of suspicion rose in the back of his mind.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I –” Kanan looked away for a moment before his eyes darted back to Ezra.  “I saw your debriefing.”

“Oh.”  It was all Ezra could think of to say.  He knew he should feel _something_.  Anger at the fact that Kanan had seen the recording.  Fear that Kanan was judging him, or worse, feeling _sorry_ for him.  Humiliation at the thought that Kanan had heard everything the Inquisitors had done to him and then seen him _crying_ about it.  But he felt nothing, and he didn’t understand why.

“Ezra –”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ezra said.  His heart skipped a beat as the Jedi fell silent, his mind racing as he tried to think of some way to take back what he’d just done.

“That’s fine,” Kanan said.  “You don’t have to.”

Silence fell again, and in spite of what Kanan had said, Ezra still felt like he was standing on a narrow ledge, staring down at the steep drop below him.

“Is there something else you want to talk about?” Kanan asked.

Ezra dropped his gaze to the floor just below his feet, taking a long breath and steeling himself before he nodded.  There was some small part of him that didn’t _really_ want to ask this, but it was drowned out by the fear that surged up in his mind at thought of waiting, spending day after day in agony, not knowing how much longer he’d be in this cell.

“I –” his voice broke off, his throat suddenly going dry as he clenched his hands around the edge of the bunk.  “Wh—when am I going to be executed?”

Kanan stared at him for a moment, his face unreadable.  Ezra stayed perfectly still, his heart hammering as he wondered if he’d just asked the wrong question.  Maybe they didn’t want him to know.

“You’re not,” Kanan said.

His words jolted Ezra out of the web of panic in his head.  He couldn’t have heard right.  It didn’t make any sense.

“What do you mean I’m not?” he asked, his voice shaking as he lifted his head to look at Kanan again.

“You’re not going to be executed,” Kanan said.  “We don’t do that to prisoners.”

“But…that doesn’t – I’m an Inquisitor,” Ezra said.  “I hurt people for the Empire.  I – I _killed_ people for them.”

“They didn’t give you much of a choice,” Kanan said, so calm it was almost infuriating.

“And how would you know?” Ezra asked, latching onto that irritation he felt at the Jedi’s calmness, if only to give himself something to feel other than utter confusion and disbelief.

“I saw the debriefing, Ezra,” Kanan said.  “I know you were a prisoner.”

Ezra let out a harsh, humorless laugh, his hands twitching at his sides as he stood up and began to pace the length of the small cell.  The words repeated to him over and over until they were burned into his mind echoed in his ears.  _You are the property of the Empire.  You are the property of the Inquisitorius._

He’d never been a prisoner.  Prisoners were still sentient beings.  He wasn’t a prisoner; he was property.  He was a weapon, with the Imperial insignia branded onto his skin like the name of an owner etched into an inanimate object.  But how could he even explain that to Kanan?  He would never understand.

“Ezra?”

At the sound of his name, Ezra flinched.  He looked down to see blood welling up around his fingernails where they were digging into his palms.

“It’s okay,” Kanan said.  “Just focus on my voice, alright?”

“Why do you even care?” Ezra snapped.

“Because I’m guessing it’s been a long time since anyone did.”

Against all logic, fury sparked to life in Ezra’s chest.

“Just go away,” he growled.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan said, and Ezra desperately tried to ignore the fact that he sounded genuine.  “I’ll go.  But I promise I’ll come back.  You shouldn't be alone here.”

Ezra ignored him.  Right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care if Kanan came back to see him.  He just wanted the Jedi and his infuriating _pity_ and _sympathy_ as far away from him as possible.

As Kanan walked away, Ezra felt as if a heavy weight was being lifted off of his shoulders.  But the weight kept fading and fading until Ezra found himself barely present in his own head, feeling untethered from everything around him.  He briefly caught himself wondering if Kanan had done something to him to cause this, if this was some kind of punishment for pushing him away.  But it didn’t take long for him to stop caring about that, too.


	6. Not the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: aftermath of a suicide attempt (the attempt isn't shown); references to child abuse; references to sedation

When Kanan entered the detention building, something felt wrong.  When he walked into the row of cells, he realized what it was.  The first cell, where they’d been holding Ezra, was empty.

Kanan tried to tell himself that it didn’t necessarily mean anything was wrong.  Ezra could have just been released.  He could have tried to escape and been moved to a more secure cell.  But Kanan’s instincts screamed at him that something was wrong.

Kanan quickly walked down the row of cells, looking into each of them, only to find them all empty.  He turned on his heel and left the building, reaching for his commlink, intending to call Ahsoka.  He stopped in his tracks when he saw the three people clustered outside the building.  He’d barely paid attention to them when he’d first passed them on his way into the building, but now he could sense the distress flaring through the Force.

“Hey,” he said as he rushed up to them.  “What happened to the kid?”

One of the other rebels, a young human man who looked to be about Hera’s age, flinched.  He was staring wide-eyed down at the ground, shaking.  It didn’t take Kanan long to realize that it was this man’s distress that he’d sensed just a moment ago.

“He’s –” the man’s voice cut off as he drew in a long, shaking breath.  “He’s in the medbay.”

Kanan felt as though his heart had stopped for a moment as a hundred possibilities of what had happened flashed through his mind, each of them worse than the last.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice much harsher than he’d intended.

“I – I just –” the man’s voice broke off as he pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes, shaking his head.

“What did you do?!” Kanan asked.

“I found him,” the man said quietly.  “I just found him.  That’s – that’s all.”

“Just back off, okay?” a young Twi’lek woman said, putting a protective hand on the man’s shoulder.

Kanan took a step back, forcing himself to draw in a long, deep breath.  He didn’t even know why he’d gotten so aggressive.  All he knew was that the thought of anything happening to the kid had brought out a protective instinct that he didn’t know how to explain.

“I – I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back.  “I didn’t…”

He turned away and began to walk back toward the main structure of the base.  He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that whatever had happened, the kid was getting help, but he couldn’t rid himself of the nagging feeling that something was very, very wrong.  He picked up his pace, barely realizing that he was doing it, as he headed toward the eastern side of the main structure, where the medical bay was housed.  He told himself it was only because Ezra at least deserved to see a friendly face while he was being treated for whatever had landed him there, but he couldn’t keep up that lie for very long.  The look on that man’s face and the fear and pain he’d sensed through the Force was more than enough to tell Kanan that whatever had happened to the kid was serious, and he needed to see for himself.

When Kanan reached the medbay, he quickly glanced around, but saw no sign of the kid.  He did, however, see two guards standing outside of a small curtained-off area.  That had to be where Ezra was.  Who else would need guarding in the medbay except a prisoner?

“Excuse me.”

Kanan jumped at the sound of a voice beside him.  Looking down, he saw a young human woman about Sabine’s age holding a datapad.

“Do you need to see a medic?” she asked.

“No,” Kanan said, his eyes darting quickly toward where the guards were standing.  “I’m here to see a patient.  He was brought in from the detention block earlier.”

“Oh,” the woman said, a tension in her voice that made Kanan nervous.  Her eyes flitted in the same direction Kanan’s had.

“Is he alright?” Kanan asked.

“I can't discuss the condition of patients,” the woman said.  She hesitated for a moment before she spoke again.  “And we’re under orders not to let anyone from intelligence see him yet.  Another interrogation is the last thing he needs right now.”

Her words only made that twisted, wrong feeling that hovered over Kanan worse.  What could have happened to make them set that restriction?

“I’m not from intelligence,” Kanan said.  “I’m just a friend.”

“Then as long as his guards are okay with it, you can see him,” she said, glancing down the rows of beds to the one the guards were watching.  “He’s right down there.”

“Thanks,” Kanan said.

He approached the curtained-off area, hesitating for a moment as he got close to the guards, wondering if they would try to stop him from seeing Ezra.

“How is he?” Kanan asked once they were within earshot.

“Still unconscious,” one of the guards, the same Togruta who’d escorted Ezra off of the _Ghost_ , said.  She drew back the curtain, letting Kanan step through and following him when he did.  Slowly, Kanan walked up to the side of the bed, gazing down at its occupant.

Just as the guard had said, Ezra was unconscious, one hand cuffed to the rail along the side of the cot.  The only injury Kanan could see was a dark bruise around his neck that stood out harshly against the dark tan of his skin.

“They just took out his breathing tube,” the guard said.

“Breathing…” Kanan’s voice trailed off as he kept staring down at the unconscious kid.  “What happened?”

“They didn’t tell you.”

Kanan shook his head.

“He tried to kill himself,” the guard said.

Kanan thought he heard her say something else, but her words sounded like they were coming from so far away that Kanan couldn’t hear them.  The first feeling he was able to recognize was a sharp pang of guilt as he remembered the words of the man outside the detention building.  _I just found him._   He’d found the kid – found him _hanging_ , by the look of the bruise on his neck – and Kanan had been ready to assume that he’d been the one who hurt Ezra.

That guilt grew stronger, tearing at him from the inside as his gaze locked onto that bruise.  He should have known something was wrong when Ezra had asked him when he was going to be executed.  He should have said something to somebody.  He should have realized…

“Can I stay with him?” he asked.

“For now,” the guard said.  “At least until the medics say you need to leave.”

As she stepped back outside to give them privacy, Kanan gently put his hand on Ezra’s shoulder.  He couldn’t stop looking at the kid’s face.  If it wasn’t for the bruise on his neck and the monitor around his wrist, Kanan might have thought the kid was just asleep.  Once the guard could no longer see him, Kanan reached out, nudging at the cuff around the kid’s wrist through the Force.  It sprang open silently and Kanan gently removed it.

“Just come back to us, kid,” he said.  “It’ll be okay.”

* * *

 

Ezra’s throat was burning.

As his eyes slowly opened, his head began swimming.  He was lying down somewhere, staring up at a metal ceiling, and he could sense a vaguely familiar presence nearby.  Every breath he took made that burning in his throat even worse.

Every breath…

“No,” Ezra muttered, blinking slowly as he realized what was happening.  “No!”

He slammed his fist against the surface he was lying on.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  He was supposed to die.  They were supposed to _let_ him die.  He’d been counting on them letting it happen.  He was an Inquisitor.  He was their enemy.  Why would they care what happened to him, unless they thought he had more information to give?

“Ezra,” a voice said gently.  Ezra flinched at the sound of the name – _his_ name – and the feeling of the hand that rested on his shoulder.  “It’s okay.”

Ezra abruptly sat up, pulling away from that touch as he sensed the whirlwind of pain and concern and _pity_ that flowed through the air around him.

“No!” he said, his voice harsh and rasping.  “It’s not –”

His words were cut off as he began coughing, his hand flying to his neck.  He felt like the inside of his throat had been roughly scraped out with a knife.  He gasped for breath, but each gulp of air he drew in only made him cough more.

“Easy,” that voice said again.  “Slow breaths.  You’ll be okay.”

Slowly, Ezra managed to get his breathing under control, drawing in slower, shallower breaths until he finally stopped coughing.  He turned his head and his heart skipped a beat as he saw that it was Kanan standing beside the bed, hovering over him like he was…worried?

“Why –” Ezra stopped talking as a small cough escaped his throat yet again.  “Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” Kanan asked.

“I remember,” Ezra muttered, looking down at his hands, which were curling into fists on his lap.  “Why did you bring me here?”

“You didn’t really think we’d let you die, did you?” Kanan asked.

Ezra bristled at the question, flinching away from Kanan.  He’d already told them everything he knew.  He had nothing more to give them, so what did they _want_ from him?

“I told you everything,” Ezra said, his eyes burning as he fought not to let tears well up in them.  “I – I swear.”

“Ezra –”

Before Kanan could say another word, the curtain was pulled aside and someone stepped through it.  Looking up, Ezra recognized the red-haired human man as one of the medics who’d evaluated him when he’d first been taken prisoner.  At the sight of him, Ezra’s eyes widened slightly, his heart seeming to double in speed as memories of needles in his arms and restraints holding him down on metal tables clawed their way to the surface of his mind.

 _You’re not there,_ he told himself.  _You’re not there; their medics can't touch you you’re not there not there not there._

_The Seventh Sister fastened one of the restraints around his wrist herself.  As she reached across him to lock the other one into place, Ezra let out a quiet whimper.  By now, he knew better than to struggle.  It wouldn’t stop them, and it would only get him hurt._

_“Be good for the medics, little one,” she said, her fingers lightly trailing along Ezra’s face.  Ezra clenched his jaw in a vain attempt to stop it from trembling.  “If you can manage that, you might get a reward later.”_

_Ezra stayed as still as he could, fighting against the urge to wrench himself away from her touch._

_“Do you think you can manage that?”  Her voice was so sickly sweet that Ezra felt bile tickling at the base of his throat._

_“Y—yes, Master,” Ezra said, his voice as small as he could make it._

“Ezra?”

Ezra yelped as he felt something touch his arm.  He knocked it away only to realize that it was Kanan’s hand.  He stared at the man for a moment, catching his breath as he came back to the present.

“S—sorry,” he said, quickly averting his eyes so he could avoid Kanan’s concerned gaze.

“I was asking if you wanted Kanan to leave,” the medic – Ezra struggled to remember his name; Revik, maybe? – said.  “Your medical information is private, and he doesn’t need to be here if you don’t want him here.”

Ezra shrugged.

“I don’t care if he hears,” he said.

“If you’re sure,” the medic said, switching on his datapad and turning it around to show Ezra an image of what appeared to be the bones in his neck.  “You have a mild laryngeal fracture and bruising to your vertebrae.  You were found fairly quickly, so the damage isn’t very extensive.”

He paused for a moment to let Ezra take in what he’d said.  Ezra just kept staring down at his hands.  The medic seemed to think he’d be _glad_ to know the damage wasn’t extensive, as if he didn’t know exactly what Ezra had been trying to do.

“You’ll need to stay here for at least a day,” the medic said.  “The fracture could have been worse, but we need to keep you under observation to make sure it doesn’t cause any more problems.”

“Fine,” Ezra muttered.  He knew there was no point in trying to refuse.  He was a prisoner.  He had no power here.  He didn’t even have the power to end his own life.

“We gave you steroids to reduce the swelling in your throat,” the medic said.  “But you should try not to talk too much just yet.  And you should rest as much as you can.”

Ezra nodded, still not looking up at the medic.  Anger burned in his chest so strongly that he practically felt bile rising in his throat.  He didn’t want their help or their sympathy.  He just wanted them not to have saved him in the first place.

“We can give you something to help you sleep,” the medic said.

Ezra’s eyes widened, feeling like something was squeezing his chest the moment the words were spoken.

“No!” he cried, his hand flying to his neck as his throat burned.  The pain was so bad that tears stung at his eyes as he began coughing.  The medic stepped around the edge of the curtain and returned a moment later, holding out a cup of water.  Ezra took it, staring down at it for a moment before shaking his head.

“I don’t – I don’t want anything to put me to sleep,” he said.  “I – I can't –”

“That’s just water,” the medic said.  “No drugs.  I promise.”

Ezra shook his head, holding the cup out toward the medic.  He wasn’t going to risk it.  It was bad enough he’d already been unconscious, with no idea what they’d been doing to him.  He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Kid, you need water,” Kanan said.

Ezra shook his head.

“I don’t want to sleep,” he said.

“Ezra, he’s not lying,” Kanan said.  “It’s just water.  You won't be sedated if you don’t want to be.”

Ezra let out a quiet sound that was almost a laugh.  Did the Jedi really think that he would believe that?

A memory forced it's way to the surface of his mind, and he realized that they hadn’t done it before.  When his tracker had been removed, he’d said no to the sedative and they didn’t give it to him.  He’d reached out to Kanan and asked for help and Kanan had stopped the pilot from drugging him.

Ezra stared down at the cup still clutched in his hands, which were now shaking.  If the water _was_ drugged, he didn’t know how long he had until someone forced him to drink it.  If they wanted to drug him, it was going to happen, and it was only a matter of how much they would hurt him in the process.

Slowly, his hands still shaking, Ezra raised the cup to his lips and drank.  The burning in his throat eased slightly as he did.  He set the cup aside and gripped the edge of the cot tightly, bracing himself as he waited to see what would happen.

“See?” Kanan said.  “You’re fine.”

 _For now_ , Ezra thought, even as he nodded.  If they’d drugged him, it could easily be something slow-acting; something that would creep up on him so he wouldn’t realize it was working until it was too late.

“Even if you don’t sleep, you still need to rest,” the medic said.  “And I’m going to send our psychiatric specialist to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

Ezra’s fingers tightened around the edge of the cot as his throat drew tight.  The thought of someone poking around in his head, even without the Force, set off a chain reaction of sheer terror, but he didn’t know if it was something he was allowed to refuse.  So, he simply nodded again, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor just in front of the medic’s feet.

As the medic left, Ezra jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.  He gasped, turning his head to see Kanan.

“Why don’t you lie down?” the Jedi asked.

Ezra’s shoulders stiffened for a moment, his heart skipping a beat as he realized he _was_ exhausted.  He should never have accepted that water.  He shouldn’t have trusted Kanan.  He should have just kept refusing.  He’d known it wasn’t safe, that they would probably just drug him anyway, but he’d been stupid enough to let himself believe it was safe.

But, he realized with a start, this wasn’t the swimming, spinning tiredness he usually felt when he’d been drugged.  This was the aching, bone-deep exhaustion he felt after his brutal training sessions.

Slowly, Ezra nodded and lay down on his side, facing Kanan.  Even if the Jedi had been telling the truth about the water not being drugged, Ezra didn’t want to keep his back turned to the man any longer.

Kanan turned away and stuck his head outside the curtain.  Ezra could hear him speaking, but he was so quiet that Ezra couldn’t make out the words.  After a moment, he heard footsteps beginning to fade into the distance.

“They agreed I could guard you for now,” Kanan said as he turned back to face Ezra.  “That’s two less people you need to worry about at least.”

Ezra shrugged, not knowing how else to respond.  He had barely noticed the guards.  He’d been too preoccupied by the fact that he was here in the first place.

“Kanan?” he said, his voice still rasping.  He knew he was supposed to rest it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  “Why didn’t they just let me die?”

Though Kanan’s expression didn’t change, Ezra sensed a sharp, powerful flash of anger in the Jedi’s mind.  He flinched, shrinking away from the man, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to form the words to apologize.  He didn’t think he’d been doing anything wrong.  He –

“Kid,” Kanan said, his voice gentle.  “I’m not angry at you.  I promise.  I just wasn’t shielding as strongly as I should have been.”

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said quietly.

“It’s not your fault,” Kanan said.  “I wasn’t angry at you.  It was…it was them.  The Inquisitors.  I take it they wouldn’t have saved you if you’d…”

Ezra shook his head as Kanan’s voice trailed off.  In any other circumstances, he might have even laughed at the idea of the Inquisitors trying to stop him from killing himself.  They never would have cared.

“They didn’t let you die because saving you was the right thing to do,” Kanan said.  “And because we look out for each other here.”

 _That_ nearly got a laugh out of Ezra.  He knew perfectly well that that wasn’t how things really worked.  Not in prison, not in the Inquisitorius, not anywhere.  Trying to look out for each other only ever got people hurt or killed.

“People don’t do that,” he muttered.

“We do,” Kanan said.

Ezra didn’t respond.  He just clutched the blanket closer to his chest as if it would shield him.  He wasn’t sure what exactly it was he was trying to hide from, only that he desperately wanted to hide from _something_.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Kanan said.  “Just try to get some rest.”

Ezra nodded, pulling the edge of the blanket up to his chin and curling in on himself.  As Kanan left him alone, Ezra didn’t close his eyes.  Instead, he stared blankly at the curtain that enclosed the area.

He hadn’t planned on surviving the day, but he had.  He had no idea what was going to happen now.  He had no idea what he _wanted_ to happen now.  All he knew was that he was still here.  They’d saved him.  And he didn’t know what to do.


End file.
